Someone to turn to
by CupCakeyyy
Summary: Sirius needs help and where is it best to get it from than his brother in everything but blood?


Written for QLFC – For the position of Keeper, a letter to a friend. I filled this position, because our keeper couldn't write this round. GO PUDDLES!

I hope you like it! Enjoy reading

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**Someone to turn to**

Dear Jamsie,

Hey, buddy. How are you? I hope you're doing well.

I just received a letter from Remmy. Can you believe it? That little bastard is a Prefect. I don't get it.

Okay, maybe I do, seeing as he is the most responsible person I have knowledge of – with the possible exception of one Lily Evans, of course, but you already knew that, didn't you, Prongs? – and he is the only one – with the exception of Evans once again; man, she's really giving him a tough competition, isn't she? – that stands up to our, and I quote, '_Sometimes childish behaviour and extremely brainless pranks that sometimes - or more often than I wish they would be – are a good laugh and fun to organize and plan nonetheless_', but that's not the point.

He is a Marauder! A freaking Marauder and now a freaking maraudering Prefect, who will be the first ever rule-ensuring student that's going to break rules like there's no tomorrow.

I tell ya, Prongsie-boy, it's gonna be _awesome_! Just think about all the things we're now officially allowed to do, without ever having to fear – manly fear, mind you – being caught and locked into a stuffy old classroom with no other company than two hundred-somewhat cauldrons to scrub, or – Merlin forbid – be forced to act _civilly _to the Slytherins. I wouldn't survive that one.

But having a befriended Prefect walking around the school means that we can get away with things much easier than now, because, I swear, sometime in the probably near future I'll throttle Wormtail for causing us yet another hideous detention. I mean, siriusly – ha ha, did you see what I did there? – can't that little rodent tell Minnie one simple little and rather very unlikely truth that it wasn't us who charmed the school's broomsticks to tap-dance on the Quidditch field? Was it that difficult?

Anyway, I can't see why that would be a negative development in our career as the best and most hilarious pranksters that Hogwarts has ever seen.

He also told me that he plans on coming for a visit when I'm at your house, so that's gonna be fun. We can drive your Mum crazy. I know she loves it. I know she loves me, so no worry there. She probably loves me more than she loves you. No surprise there, either. I'm the good-looking one of the two of us, after all. Ha!

But speaking of my stay at your house in a couple of weeks' time – do you mind if I was to arrive a few weeks sooner than originally planned?

You know my sorry excuse of a family and you especially know my sorry excuse of a family life.

Earlier today I set foot in this God-forsaken house after going for a walk in the neighbourhood, I immediately regretted it. Reg was having a rather loud discussion with the woman that calls herself my biological mother and I think you can probably already imagine the topic this conversation was about.

And I'll tell you one thing – they weren't happy that I overheard their little plotting.

They very well know what I think of the so called _Dark Lord_, as I've never made it a huge secret. Actually, I always said my opinion when the opportunity allowed it and even when it didn't.

So when I stopped in the hallway to get my cloak off, that witch came parading down the hall, Reg in tow, and started glaring at me as if it would somehow cause me to shrink. Pff, she obviously doesn't know me even a little bit.

Anyway, she was standing in front of me and trying to kill me without pulling out her wand, as my father decided to choose exactly that very moment to make his entrance and ordered all of us to take a seat in the lounge, which is – as you know – a rather strange thing for him to say. It's usually either '_You're a shame for this family!' _or _'I hope you'll find your pitiful end soon enough, so we won't have to deal with your ill-bred self anymore.'_

So, stomping up the stairs behind those creepy people, trying to make as much noise as I possibly could, I couldn't help but think about the upcoming conversation – or brain washing as it turned out to be – and get a slightly icky feeling in my stomach. I know you'll understand this when you read this hastily written letter, but… I was scared.

I can only remember those times during my childhood too well to know what was about to come over me and I couldn't wish for being at a different place even more than at this very moment. My mother is bad enough, but my father? You've met him; you know what he's like.

My dear young brother was smirking as if he had just swallowed a particularly tasty flubberworm and couldn't stop scratching his nose, which made me even more nervous - no idea why. Those people tend to drive normal wizards into insanity and seeing that I'm not normal whatsoever, you can only imagine how fast the insanity comes knocking at my door and waiting to be led inside to make itself comfortable.

The heavy door that led to the lounge hit me in the back, causing me to stumble, to my parents' and brother's great amusement.

Once inside that dark, depressing room, they started with their interrogation. I know what they want from me and they know they can't get it, but that doesn't mean they have to like it. And my father certainly didn't like it one bit.

When my mother gets angry, she starts throwing things – the more expensive, the better – and sometimes I happen to be one of those things. But when my father's angry, it's a whole different story. You don't want him to be mad at you. You do as he says and you to so quickly, before he changes his mind.

Knowing me for a couple of years now, you know that I would do anything than my father's bidding and he had to learn it during those past years as well. All that build up frustration that he had time to strengthen with hate and probably a little disappointment as well had to come out eventually. It was just a matter of time.

I'll spare you the cruel details for not only your sake, but mine as well. I don't really want to think about how my left arm is broken twice, why my face probably looks as if the Knight Bus just parked on top of it and why my body is all achy and stiff.

I don't know how I managed it, but I'm in my room right now. I spelled the door with every locking and privacy spell I could possibly think of and even tried some of those I found in the library the other day while researching this one prank with the bed sheets, but that didn't work out as well as I had hoped. My wardrobe kind of burst into flames. Oh well, that thing was ugly as hell anyway.

I'm writing this letter, just to let you know that I'll grab my Cleansweep in a few seconds and jump out of the window, preferable before those arses break down that freaking door. I'm surprised it lasted that long.

The Confundus Charms helped a great deal, too, I guess. Otherwise I couldn't have written even one paragraph before they would have found me. Lucky me that I started this letter yesterday already…

Okay, I think that sound was the wood starting to splinter. I better get a move on. I'll send this letter with Dwight, as he is waiting right next to me, constantly holding up his little leg and waiting impatiently to leave this place as soon as possible. I know why I like this owl.

Okay, I'll see ya in a bit, mate. I hope I don't cause you guys any more trouble than I already am with this change of plan. I'm sorry if I do.

Gotta run.

See y-

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Feel free to leave a comment. I'd love to hear your opinion :)

**Word count: **1363


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